


Ocean's East

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22478779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: Danny owns a bar, which means Rusty basically owns the bar as well, and technically their apartment has two bedrooms but Rusty never uses his.
Relationships: Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 198
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Ocean's East

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



> Also: What if instead of thievery they played in a cover band?

"How old do you think I am?" Danny asks, as Rusty plugs the bass into the amp. Rusty doesn't answer, because he knows exactly how old Danny is, and the fact that people continue to tell Danny _to his face_ that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.

"Linus, how old do you think I am?" Danny calls.

"Danny, don't terrorize the kid before he can even audition," Rusty chastises. "You could dye your hair."

"Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?"

"Yes." Rusty kicks cords out of his way. "Linus, you ready with that guitar?"

Linus scrambles up from where he'd been sitting on a gear box, carefully tuning his guitar. It's a nice Fender, clearly a little older but kept up nice, with a polished black body. "Uh, yes. Yes, I'm ready." 

"You know Ramble On?" Danny asks. He resettles the strap of his guitar over his shoulder. "It gets a lot of requests, so you better know it."

"Weren't you in a BTO cover band?" Basher asks Linus, leaning over the snare drum. 

Turk calls from the bar, "You get a lot of girls when you're in a BTO cover band?"

"Guys!" Rusty yells. "Cool it." To Linus he says, "You know Ramble On?"

Linus looks pretty wide-eyed to Rusty, but he nods and plugs in, getting into place. "It really gets a lot of requests? Yeah, I know it."

"Alright. Bash?"

Basher twirls his drumsticks, grinning. "One, two, one - two - three - four -"

*

Rusty and Danny leave Linus at the bar with Turk and a glass of Coke, and take their beers to the corner-most table. It's barely past noon, but Rusty missed lunch, and he's yet to talk Danny into hiring a cook and at least doing some bar food. "I don't need all that health inspector bullshit," Danny says every time he brings it up.

"The health inspector already comes here," Rusty says patiently in response, but Danny always just tells him to go next door for a pizza. 

Danny glances over his shoulder at Linus. "He's pretty fucking stiff."

"Yeah, but he knew all the chords to every song we threw at him, and that's a hundred times better than the last guy we auditioned."

"True. Trial period?"

"Trial period," Rusty agrees, and taps his bottle against Danny's. "Think we can talk him into not wearing a sport coat on stage?"

"I think the jacket could be his signature look."

Rusty laughs at that and fixes his sleeves. "Linus!" he yells, and Linus turns, looking slightly terrified. "Relax. You're hired."

*

"So is there an Ocean's West Coast?" Linus asks, as he's helping Rusty put all their shit away after a Wednesday night set. Danny lets a comedy club rent it out on Thursdays, so they can't leave cords all over the place, even taped down. "They pay," he says, whenever anyone complains about the tear-down.

Rusty pauses in looping a cable around his arm. "What?"

"If this is East Coast, is there a West Coast?"

"If you're trying to ask if Tess got something out of the divorce," Danny says, appearing from behind the ratty curtain, "the answer is no, there wasn't anything to get once she decided she didn't want any of this place."

Linus turns beet red. "That wasn't - I wasn't - but okay."

Danny grins at Rusty and takes the cable from him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to fire you for asking."

"Leave him alone," Rusty laughs. "No, Linus, there's no Ocean's West Coast. Everyone Danny knows lives here."

"Hey," Danny protests.

"It's true."

"Reuben's got that LA house." Danny reaches out for the beer Turk's offering him, takes a swig, then passes it to Rusty. 

It's nice and cold. "You know Reuben shouldn't really count," Rusty says. He wipes his mouth with his hand.

Linus looks like he wants to ask, but seems to think better of it, and turns to wheel the equipment case into the back. "I think we confuse him," Danny says when he's disappeared out of sight.

"I can still hear you!" Linus yells, and Danny squeezes Rusty's arm, chuckling.

*

Their apartment is on the nice side for NYC, and Rusty's always aware that he's got Tess to thank for the fact that there are two tiny bedrooms and a corner that almost counts as a kitchen. There's someone crashing in the second bedroom half the time - this week it's Turk, unceremoniously dumped two Fridays ago by the girl he'd been staying with, so he gets what they've always labeled "Rusty's room" even though Rusty falls asleep on the futon in Danny's room more often than not. It's usually easier to get to than the bed in his room, which is normally surrounded by and sometimes covered in various musical equipment. He thinks Turk might just be passing out in top of some extension cords.

"I think Turk is trying to cook," Danny says when Rusty wakes up on Friday, wincing in the sunlight, his head pounding from too much booze and not enough Tylenol last night. 

Sure enough, he hears the sounds of pans rattling. "Ugh, it's too early," he groans, trying to tuck his whole body underneath Danny, but it doesn't work.

"It's noon, Russ." Danny pets his hair gently. "And we are both too old for the bender you went on last night."

Rusty groans again and tries once more to hide underneath Danny. It still doesn't work, but Danny indulges him and lets Rusty pull the sheet up over his head and tuck himself close. "What was with that, anyway?" Danny asks. 

"What was with what?"

"You getting drunk." Danny rubs his shoulder. "And passing out basically on top of me, instead of your usual spot on the futon. I guess it's kind of cold in here, so I didn't mind all that much since you're a furnace, but you knocked back about double your usual."

Rusty grumbles something that he knows isn't real words, mostly so Danny will pet his hair again. 

Turk crashes into the doorway, or at least it sounds like he crashes into the doorway. "Hey, you guys want omelettes?"

"We don't have anything to make omelettes with," Rusty replies.

"You have eggs."

"That's -" Danny starts, then stops, and pats Rusty's hair some more. "Sure, Turk, we could eat."

"Make some coffee," Rusty mumbles, more into the pillow than out loud.

"I tried to tell you it was too much bourbon," Danny says to him. 

"Shut up, Danny."

*

Reuben whirls into town that afternoon with a small truckload of furniture that he insists is for the bar. "You drove this across the country?" Rusty asks, watching as Basher and Turk argue about where to put a table.

"No, I flew on a plane. Frank drove the truck."

Frank is currently talking to Danny about the Guggenheim, if Rusty is overhearing correctly. 

"Do we really need this furniture?" Rusty asks Reuben.

Reuben just gives him a look. "Do you want your customers to eat off a table that's always going to be sticky no matter how many times you wipe it down?" 

Rusty figures Reuben has a point there. The new-to-them items get swapped in, some of the older shit that's been in the bar as long as Rusty can remember gets loaded onto the truck, and Turk and Virgil go with Frank to find someplace to dump it. 

"Looks a little nicer, doesn't it?" Reuben knocks his cigar against the edge of the ashtray. 

It still looks mostly the same to Rusty, but he doesn't say that. Danny comes over with a bottle of Jack and three glasses. "You're not making me drink that," Reuben says to him.

"Next time bring your own bottle," Danny replies. He slides into the chair next to Rusty and pours. Rusty still feels a little tender from last night's overindulgence, but he takes the drink anyway just to have something to do with his hands. 

"Don't think I won't," Reuben says, but he accepts the glass Danny nudges over. 

"So what really brings you to New York?" Rusty asks, because Reuben wouldn't show up just to sit in the bar for a few hours and bring them some furniture. 

"I've got a list," Reuben replies. He taps a finger on the table. "I'm visiting my East Coast tailor first of all. The seasons are changing; I can't wear linen past September. And I'm going to Paris next month. I'll need suits for traveling."

"You can't take the suits you already bought and paid for?" Basher asks from behind the bar. Rusty bites his lip to stop from laughing, only partly because laughing is making his head hurt, and catches Danny's eye as Danny does the same. 

Reuben swivels part way around in his chair. Basher holds up his hands in clear and immediate surrender, and Rusty hears him mutter something about trousers. Reuben returns his attention to Rusty's question. "Secondly, I'm going to the Met for the opening. That gallery down the street procured an invitation for me, after that Austria business."

"I did enjoy that Austria business, despite the food," Danny says, at the same time that Rusty says, "And by the opening you mean -"

"The McQueen." Reuben gives him a look.

Rusty holds up a hand. "Well, what else," he says to Danny. 

"You'd wear it if you could," Danny laughs at him, and Rusty smooths a palm over his loudly printed t-shirt, purchased from a tourist kiosk.

"Get me a program, would you?" Basher calls to Reuben. "For my sister."

Reuben huffs at that. "What sister?"

*

Linus' second show with the band goes well enough that Basher tries to get him drunk after. Rusty leans against Danny in a booth and listens to Linus protest. "I have to work my regular job tomorrow," he's telling Basher.

"It's already past midnight, what's a g&t now?"

"It's _past midnight_ ," Linus insists, like Basher's already countered his own argument. 

Rusty turns his face against Danny's shoulder. "Do you think we're too old for this?"

"Is this your way of saying you want to go home?" Danny replies, and Rusty can feel that Danny's clearly laughing at him. "It's a little early to kick everyone out, Russ."

Rusty allows one single petulant noise to escape his mouth, but Danny only laughs at him again and squeezes the back of his neck. "Stay here, I'll get you another drink."

"Fine," Rusty grumbles, most of his brain now preoccupied with how good Danny's hand had felt on his neck. Danny slides out of the booth and moves towards the bar. Rusty watches him pause to say something to Yen, the neon of the signs on the wall glinting off his hair and the broad face of the watch he wears. The main room is a little dim, as they tend to turn down the brighter lights the later it gets and rely more on the neon, and whoever's manning the music has put an on some slower Wallflowers song - Turk, probably - and the whole room feels nice and slow. It's mostly regulars this late on a weekday, the folks that come out to listen to some music and then stay for a few beers. He can see a few couples on the tiny makeshift dance floor; nothing fancy, just swaying to the slow beat. Rusty loves the bar when it's thrumming and busy and he's pouring drinks so fast he can barely think, but he also loves it like this. 

Danny comes back with two highball glasses dense with ice. "No bourbon for you tonight," he says, setting one in front of Rusty.

Rusty takes a sip. Red wine and Coke; Basher had picked it up in Spain. Rusty has to admit it's a decent way to use up the red that they keep but only a few customers drink. Danny slides an arm around him again, leans his chin on Rusty's shoulder. "Russ."

"Mm?"

"We really aren't too old for this, right?"

"'course not," Rusty answers. "You'd miss it anyway, if you sold it."

Danny takes a long drink. "Yeah, I would."

*

When they get home, Rusty turns on an old Redford movie and collapses on the sofa with an apple and some toast. Danny swipes a piece, then disappears into Rusty's room; Rusty can hear him digging through the extra gear for a moment, followed by the whispery swishing sound of cords being gathered up and looped.

"All right," Danny says when he appears in the small doorway. "If Turk comes back tonight he can at least get to the bed."

"You never cared about me getting safely to the bed," Rusty replies, dropping the apple core on the paper towel that previously held the toast.

"You never sleep in there." Danny goes into his room without closing the door, and in the slant of the lamplight, Rusty sees the shadow of him getting undressed. After a moment, he looks away and back at the television, feeling like he's pushed on the tender edge of a bruise just by looking, even if it was only Danny's shadow he watched move.

Turk arrives not long after, as Rusty's still pretending he cares about this movie. "Hey man," Turk mumbles. He shuffles into Rusty's room. Rusty can hear the mattress make a protesting squeak when Turk falls on it. 

"Turk, you making us breakfast in the morning again?" he calls. Danny's laugh is audible, and Turk makes a muffled groaning noise. "I'm sure you can scrape together something."

"... scrape you," he hears from Turk in reply.

Danny goes into the bathroom. Rusty watches Redford ride a bicycle.

"You sitting out here all night, or are you coming to bed?" Danny asks when he opens the bathroom door again. The collar of his t-shirt is damp.

Rusty thinks about the shadow of Danny pulling that t-shirt over his head and feels lightheaded for a second, but thankfully, the feeling passes quickly. "Uh, yeah, sure. Let me brush my teeth quick."

Turk is now snoring. Rusty closes the door on him before ditching all his garbage and turning off the remaining lights. This late, their block is quiet, even with the bathroom window jammed open half an inch like Danny always keeps it when it's not truly winter. 

Rusty does his nighttime routine. Danny's left a jacket on the back of the door again, like he thinks the fresh air will draw out some of the cigarette smoke smell, and that the steam from their morning showers will draw out some of the wrinkles. It never quite works. Rusty figures one of these days it's gonna be illegal to smoke indoors, but until that comes, most of their clothes will smell like the bar. 

Danny's in the bed with the light on, reading a worn paperback. "Didn't Frank leave that behind?" Rusty asks. "It can't be good."

"It's all right," Danny says in his way.

Rusty shakes out the quilt on the futon. Danny says, "Russ. Come on."

Danny puts the book down and moves over in the bed, closer to the wall. Rusty feels awkward standing there, then feels awkward reaching for the light. It must show on his face because Danny grins and says, "Don't you know by now that I won't bite? Jesus, Rusty, just get in the bed."

Rusty turns off the light and does as he's told. The room is never entirely dark, thanks to the neon sign of a liquor store across the street and one building over, and the curtain that doesn't entirely block it out despite promises to the contrary. He can see the dim outline of Danny's arm reaching out, and then it's warm curling over Rusty's waist. "Danny," he breathes, the sound of it half caught in his throat.

"Don't forget we're doing that session thing for Yen's friend tomorrow," Danny murmurs, his mouth close to Rusty's cheek. "Early."

"I don't do early," Rusty says, a false protest. Danny chuckles, a thing Rusty can feel more than hear. "Seriously, Danny..."

"If you really don't want to be here, I'm not going to pin you down and make you stay."

Rusty's sure his shiver is palpable, and he feels himself flush hotly. "Feels different than other nights," he says finally, because he has to say _something_ to address this. 

The back of Danny's hand brushes over Rusty's hot cheek. "Does it really?"

Rusty nods in the darkness. The rasp of his unshaved stubble sounds loud against the pillowcase, even though it's been worn silky soft by a thousand washings.

"Can I kiss you?" Danny asks.

Rusty nods again.

Danny's mouth is warm and firm, his hand still on Rusty's cheek. Rusty thinks to himself, in increasingly hysterical order, _Aren't we too old for this?_ , and _Why didn't we do this before now?_ , and _holy fuck, Danny, get closer_. The bed's not that big, and it doesn't take much maneuvering to get under Danny, who's now kissing down Rusty's neck and sliding his hands up under Rusty's t-shirt like he's dying of thirst, and Rusty's water, and now Danny can't get enough. 

"Danny," he gasps out, feeling like every cliche in the book ( _in a song_ , his brain supplies unhelpfully), and curls his fingers in Danny's t-shirt on either side of his waist. 

"I do notice," Danny says, as though he's replying to a question Rusty hasn't asked. "I see you."

***

At the session, Yen looks at Rusty, then at the mark on Rusty's neck, then at Danny. Rusty flushes despite himself, and busies his hands with his guitar. Danny ignores Yen's raised eyebrows, pointedly checking all the connections, then turning on his pedal board before nudging a wayward cord out his path with the toe of his boot. "We're getting paid, right?" he asks Yen.

"As if I'd do anything without getting paid," Yen replies, crossly and in Chinese, and Danny and Rusty both laugh.


End file.
